


Twilight Reservation

by Talithax



Category: Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol (2011)
Genre: Humor, Light-Hearted, M/M, Mild Language, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-09
Updated: 2014-03-09
Packaged: 2018-01-15 02:23:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1287703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talithax/pseuds/Talithax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nope.  I've got nothing.  Sorry.  (Maybe just read the notes and then decide if you want to read or not?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twilight Reservation

**Author's Note:**

> Okay.
> 
> Firstly, I apologise for the lengthy delay in posting anything new, but... My current fic is, well, pretty much dominating my life. To celebrate, however, cracking the 100,000 word mark on it, I thought I'd poke my head up and quickly post something I've had sitting around for... close to forever.
> 
> Secondly, at the risk of coming across as though I'm babbling, please read the following... 'explanation'... for this fic as, seriously, I really do feel as though I have to... 'justify'... it.
> 
> So...
> 
> This fic was actually written back in January of last year. It was written the same day that I won tickets to the Australian Premiere of Hansel & Gretel - Witch Hunters, and, oddly enough, cinemas and the like were dominating my thoughts.
> 
> Now, while of no interest to me personally, Robert Pattinson had recently arrived in Adelaide (where I live) and, needless to say, the media were following his every move with obsessive interest, so, basically... he was kind of everywhere, and... that's why I ended up going with Twilight as the movie.
> 
> And, finally, that week I'd been both whining to my friend about not knowing what to write and begging her to give me a prompt of some description. And, well, what she came up with was... 'You're in my seat...'
> 
> So...
> 
> Cinema + Robert Pattinson + 'You're in my seat...' = This Fic.
> 
> Seriously.
> 
> Now... Please. No disrespect is meant to Twilight fans. The way I see it is... We're all here because we're a fan of something.
> 
> Narrated by Will. Self-beta'd.

================  
Twilight Reservation  
by TalithaX  
================

 

Ignoring the strange looks my – paranoia – imagination tells me I just have to be getting, I make my way over to Ethan through the milling crowd and, when I see that he's finally stopped – pretending to be either invisible or simply elsewhere – feigning fascination with his watch and is looking over at me, give a quick shake of my head.

“Don't tell me, let me guess,” he mutters when, after yet another near miss with a pale, sunken eyed creature of indeterminable age and gender who just happens to be too transfixed by the thought of the coming... spectacle... to be paying any attention as to where they're going, I finally reach him. “We have a problem.”

“When don't we have a problem?” I counter, pressing my back up against the wall and, not for the first time, wishing I was just about anywhere other than here. “And I'm not talking about the constant fear of being accused of either trawling for jail bait or, worse, being a paedophile either.”

“Just keep telling yourself that we have as much right being able to see a movie as anyone,” Ethan replies with a long suffering sigh just as, and I swear she'd have to be all of eight, a young girl in a Team Edward t-shirt only just avoids spilling her jumbo size cup of soda down his trouser leg. “We just have to retrieve the folder,” he continues as the girl's mother – also in a Team Edward t-shirt, only hers, while nevertheless being the size of a child's tent, struggles to stretch around all her lumps and bumps and makes the sour faced Edward look even more... unappealing... than he usually does – shoots him a malevolent look, “and get the hell out of here. That's all.”

Uh-huh. That's all. I've never spent a lot of time thinking about necromancy before but, I don't know, I'd quite like to resurrect the mental genius who thought placing the formula for the 'latest and greatest' nerve agent under a seat in a movie cinema on the very day the latest Twilight movie is released was a good one and, you know, just ask him the fuck... why? I get that he was mad, the whole chowing down on a poisonous mushroom and dying an agonising death in preference to being taken into custody thing kind of proves that, but... Seriously. What the fuck was going through his addled brain when he thought stashing the formula in a cinema soon to be filled with obsessed pre-teens and hormonal, middle aged women who should know better was... logical?

I just don't get it.

I don't get having a pocket full of poisonous mushrooms – as you do – in the first place. I don't get this obsession with nerve agents that seems to be all the rage at the moment. I most definitely don't get the fascination with Twilight and suspect Bram Stoker must be turning in his grave like a pig on a spit these days. And, while I'm at it, I also very much don't get whatever it was I just had the misfortune to encounter in the cinema.

“And therein lies the problem,” I murmur with a shrug as, clearly feeling about as comfortable in this crowd as I do, Ethan shifts to stand directly in front of me. “The seat that the folder's hidden under? There's someone sitting there already.”

“So?” His expression clearly telling me that he was expecting a far more insurmountable problem, Ethan gazes at me expectantly and waits for me to go on.

“So... You haven't seen him.” And, seeing as the whole 'what is seen can not be unseen' thing is sadly true, I really wish I hadn't either. Or, while I'm at it, caught a whiff of him for that matter.

Narrowing his eyes, Ethan gives me a funny look, almost as if to say he's beginning to wonder if – for reasons unknown and completely out of character because, hey, it's hardly as if I'm known for my practical jokes – I'm pulling his leg. “Did you ask him to move?” he queries in a deceptively mild tone, the one, in fact, he usually uses when he's struggling to remain calm.

I nod. “I did.”

“And?”

“And, if you must know, he told me to go fuck myself.”

“Oh.”

“Oh, indeed.”

Frowning, Ethan taps his finger impatiently against his watch. “You couldn't...”

“The seat is in the back row and the seats in front of it are already full so, no, I couldn't reach it another way,” I mutter, glancing down at my own watch and seeing that, yes, time really is becoming more of a pressing issue. “Oh, and before you ask, I sat next to him for a second and pretended to fiddle with my shoelace in order to see if I could get it that way, and...” Pausing, I pull a face at the memory and wrinkle my nose.

“And...?” Ethan prompts, looking, it just has to be said, not at all bothered by the obvious distress my little story is causing me.

“And the fat oaf squeezed his legs together like he thought I was possibly harbouring an interest in investigating his underwear situation!” I reply, giving Ethan a none-too-gentle shove that almost sees him bowling over a group of giggling girls as, stumbling backwards, he makes no attempt not to laugh at my far from amusing tale. “What? It's not funny,” I complain, folding my arms across my chest and glaring at him. “As you haven't seen him you can stop your damn laughing!

“Thought you were interested, huh?” Ethan smirks. “That... I'm sorry, but you've got to admit the idea of... cruising... at a Twilight movie...is... pretty funny.”

“No. No, it's not,” I pout. “A) You haven't seen him. B) He's huge, like, really, really huge and, in case you were ever curious, yes, t-shirts emblazoned with whatever her name is, the heroine of this dross, do actually come that big. C) He smells like you wouldn't believe. D) I doubt he'd have two brain cells to rub together and the one he does have is mean. E) He has the Chevrolet emblem tattooed on his left arm and the John Deere emblem on his right and, well, if that doesn't scream red-neck then I don't know what does. Oh, and, F) I'm not even going to repeat what he said when he got it into his thick skull that I was wanting to touch him inappropriately...”

My... lecture... finally causing his merriment to up and leave him, Ethan gives me a sympathetic look and sighs. “That good, huh?”

“You have no idea. If I didn't leave when I did I honestly thought he was going to give up his death grip on his family sized popcorn and have a go at me.”

“So... Appealing to his better nature is out, then.”

“As I doubt he has one, it's definitely out.” Shrugging, I glance first at my watch and then towards the cinema. “As time is very much becoming of the essence though, please, by all means give him a go yourself.”

“Uh... Going on your... descriptive... description of him, I think I'll pass,” Ethan mutters as, running his fingers through his hair, he joins me in leaning his back against the wall. “I know, it's not particularly creative, but how about we just knock him out?”

“Not enough time,” I reply, shaking my head. “The drop off for the formula is meant to be going down in little over half an hour's time, which means, if we want to capture the buyer, we have to be out of here in ten minutes time at the latest.”

“So?”

“So... I wasn't exaggerating when I was describing his size. Seriously, the man is Hulk-like huge and I don't think, not even if we used both of our doses on him, that he'd be out in time.”

“That big, huh?”

“Oh. You have no idea. In fact, on that note, I actually have no idea how he was able to squeeze his fat ass into the seat in the first place. I'm telling you, it must have taken some sort of an extreme effort, one, I have to say, I'm glad I wasn't around to witness.”

“Wonderful.” Sighing, Ethan gazes around the cinema's foyer in search of inspiration. “How about one of us grabs a staff member's uniform and then just instruct him to leave his seat for some reason or another.”

I shake my head again. “Not enough time. First we'd have to source the uniform, then put it on, then...”

“Fine.” Groaning, Ethan gives me a pained – 'please shut up now' – look. “Damn. I really didn't want to go down this path but... it looks like we'll have to pull the false fire alarm routine.”

“With this many people around? It would be pandemonium and we'd probably be trampled trying to get into cinema. So, sorry, not enough time.”

Ethan groans again and pokes his finger into my arm. “You know, there are times when I think you like saying that just a little bit... too... much.”

“Saying what?” I query, smacking his finger away and doing my best to turn a blind eye to the teenage girl just to the right of us who's calmly removing a Twilight promotional poster from the wall as though, really, it's her God given right.

“Not enough time,” Ethan retorts. “Sometimes you're like a one-track parrot.”

“Well, you know, it does make me all warm inside,” I mutter, frowning at Ethan as, to my instant consternation, he suddenly beams back at me. “What? Why do I get the feeling I'm not about to like what you're about to say?”

“Your sarcastic 'all warm inside' comment has given me an idea on how we can get the Incredible Bulk to shift his lard-ass,” Ethan replies just a tad too enthusiastically for my liking. “You got the impression he was a red-neck homophobe, yeah?”

“Uh... Yeah,” I confirm cautiously. “One who I doubt would know what the word homophobe meant, but definitely a dyed in the wool one nonetheless. I mean, I don't know about you, but if some guy bends down to tie his shoelace near me I don't immediately jump to the conclusion that he's after my virtue.”

“Perfect.” Grinning at me wickedly, Ethan gives my shoulder a small pat before beginning to walk towards the ticket windows. “Just give me a minute to get a ticket and we'll get this show on the road.”

Murmuring, “I can hardly wait,” under my breath, I – try not to dwell on how much I'm not going to like what's coming – watch Ethan until, waving his ticket triumphantly and with the pimply ticket seller still gazing wide-eyed at his back, he joins me and, side by side, we begin to walk towards the cinema. “Dare I ask why the ticket seller is still staring at you?” I query, glancing over my shoulder and confirming that, yes, he's still staring at Ethan as though he's quite honestly never seen anything like it before.

“He may have taken offence when I asked him for a ticket to whatever the crap in cinema one is,” Ethan responds with an unbothered shrug. “What? Don't look at me like. It's not as though we're actually going to watch the damn movie.”

“And that's something for which I'm forever grateful,” I reply as, flashing our tickets at the bored looking staff member at the door, we walk into the dimly lit cinema. The majority of the seats now filled by overly-excited and giggling females, the scent of perfume and body spray fills the air but, as we climb the steps towards the back row, not even that is enough to overpower the offensive aroma emanating from the man in... our... seat.

“I see what you mean about the smell,” Ethan whispers. “Maybe it's his secret weapon in ensuring he gets the entire back row to himself.”

“Or maybe it's just incredibly bad hygiene and general selfishness,” I murmur as, finally reaching the – still empty, save for Mr Stinky – back row, I step back and ensure that Ethan makes his way over to the man first. “I hope you know just what it is you're doing.”

“When don't I?” Ethan fires back with a smirk as, suddenly grabbing my hand in his, he flops down in the seat next to the man. “Hey there,” he grins at the man who, once he's finished shoving the biggest handful of popcorn I've ever seen into his mouth, swivels around in his seat and glowers balefully at Ethan. “Looking forward to the movie?” he continues, helping himself to a piece of the man's popcorn and popping it into his mouth. “Not having any intention of actually watching any of it myself, would you believe I don't even know what's showing?”

“What the fuck?” Lifting his head, the man notices – that, not knowing what to do with myself, I'm still standing next to Ethan, my hand clutched tightly in his – me and snorts loud enough that, for a split second, everyone in the next four rows turns to stare back at us. “Oh, it's you again,” he mutters. “Don't think backup is gonna help you any though as I still ain't moving.”

“Backup?” Ethan repeats as, to my horror, he uses his free hand to give the man's knee a friendly little pat. “I'm not his backup, I'm his boyfriend.”

And... There it is. I accepted when I joined the team that there was a high likelihood Ethan's actions would get me killed one day. I just never thought it would be by being pulverised by a huge homophobic red-neck though. But, whatever... What will be will be and all that.

“Boyfriend?” the man echoes, the revulsion he's feeling for the word coming through loud and clear in his voice. Just for good measure, he also looks as though he's fighting off nausea which simply makes the cringe-worthy moment even better. “I just knew you was a fag, man. I could tell it just by looking at you.” Pausing, he narrows his piggy eyes and glares ominously at each of us in turn. “This is my seat though and I ain't budging from it for a couple of fags, so... Fuck off already.”

“If the seat means so much to you then, by all means, remain seated in it,” Ethan smiles, his grin intensifying as – obviously enjoying this far too much – he winks at me before adding, “Sure, we're a little disappointed that... our... seat is already taken, but...”

“Our... seat?” the man interrupts with a grimace. “What the fuck are you talking about? This ain't your seat...”

“No, no. Of course it's not our seat, not, at any rate, in terms of us actually owning it,” Ethan states, squeezing my hand and looking up at me with such a soppy look on his face that instinct alone tells me I'd be wise to free my hand and make a run for it... now, while I still can. “We still like to think of it as ours though,” he continues, turning his attention back to the growing increasingly red in the face man. “Would you believe that today marks the first anniversary since my lover here first went down on me, right there on that very seat you're sitting on?”

Oh. Dear. God. He just said... what?

Why? Why would he say something like that to a... man like that?

“You... what?” the man grunts, recoiling. “Just... No. You've got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Nope. Not kidding,” Ethan smiles. “But, it's okay. So long as you keep your eyes on the screen, you just keep on sitting there and next year we'll have to return for the first anniversary of making... this... seat ours.” Backing his... bombshell... up with actions, Ethan yanks on my hand and pulls me down onto his lap. “We don't mind an audience, do we, my love?”

That's it. If the red-neck doesn't get him, I will.

“You're fucking sick, you are.” Making gagging noises, the red-neck... huffs and pulls and heaves his ass out of the seat... and scurries, with a surprising degree of both speed and grace for a man of his considerable size, out of the row in his haste to get away from us.

The – surreal as fuck – moment suddenly getting the better of him, Ethan buries his head in my chest and tries his hardest to choke back laughter as I dig my hands into his shoulder and fight the urge to shake hell out of him. “You... I... I hate you!” I gasp as, his eyes bright with tears of laughter, he looks up at me and grins. “You... Oh God, the least you could have done is warn me... that... was your plan!”

“And spoil the fun?” he murmurs, sliding his arms around my waist and pulling me more comfortably against him. “Nah. I don't think so,” he adds with a soft laugh as, craning his neck, he places a quick kiss on my lips. “You should have seen your expression, Will. Honestly, it was priceless. I didn't know who was going to blow a fuse first, you or the red-neck!”

“I hate you,” I repeat, relaxing my arms around his shoulders and quickly stealing a kiss back. “But... Okay...” Payback, as they say, is a bitch. “That may only be because, the idea having been planted there's, well... not enough time... to do what I suddenly feel like doing...”

His grin slipping, Ethan pouts and slowly shakes his head. “Not enough time,” he sighs. “The three words I always hate hearing coming out of your mouth.”

“Mmm... And, what's more,” I whisper directly in his ear as I reluctantly climb off him in order to retrieve the folder from under the seat, “this time I actually was... feeling all warm inside, but... Come on. Seeing as we're stupidly loyal enough to want to save the world from yet another whack job, we'd better get a move on...”

~ end ~


End file.
